Racism In West Texas Is A Whole Different Level (Short Story)

Facebook Is Offline In West Texas (Short Story)
Tesla: Three Weeks From Zero (Short Story)

 I arrived in West Texas armed with exactly two reference points:

1. I had lived in Kentucky for a few years.

2. I thought I knew what racism looked like.

This turned out to be like saying you’ve swum in a hotel pool and therefore understand the Pacific Ocean.

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1. The Welcome Committee

The first man I met shook my hand for so long I began to suspect he was testing my grip strength for livestock purposes.

“So where you from?” he asked.

“Kentucky.”

He nodded slowly, as if filing paperwork in his soul.
“And before that?”

“New Jersey.”

He nodded faster now.
“And before that?”

I realized West Texas did not believe in origin stories that stopped at the state level. This was genealogy with a lie detector.

“Well,” I said, “my parents—”

He interrupted. “No, no. I mean… originally.”

This was my first lesson: in West Texas, everyone believes they are asking a neutral question while holding a loaded one behind their back.

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2. Church: Where Jesus Loves Everyone (Terms and Conditions Apply)

Church was friendly. Excessively friendly. The kind of friendly where people smile with their mouths but squint with their ancestry.

A woman hugged me like I was a long-lost cousin and said,
“We’re so glad you’re here. We don’t see many… new faces.”

Another leaned in during prayer time and whispered,
“Don’t worry, honey. We don’t see color.”

This was said loudly. During prayer. While directly seeing color.

The pastor preached about love, unity, and how Jesus welcomed everyone—then seamlessly transitioned into a sermon about “protecting our way of life” from “outside influences,” which apparently included:

• immigrants

• cities

• colleges

• tofu

• and something called “coastal thinking,” which I assume is when thoughts come with an ocean breeze.

After service, a man clapped me on the back.
“You’re one of the good ones,” he said warmly, like he’d just awarded me Employee of the Month for my entire race.

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3. The Park: Diversity, But Only Accidentally

At the park, parents watched their kids like hawks trained specifically to spot difference.

One woman smiled at me nervously while her child played near mine.
“So… what do you do?”

“I work in tech.”

Her shoulders relaxed.
“Oh! I thought you were—well. Never mind.”

A man jogging past nodded and said,
“Great day, huh?”

I nodded back.

He slowed down.
“Just curious—what do you think about all this stuff going on in the country?”

“What stuff?”

He squinted.
“You know. Stuff.”

In West Texas, “stuff” is a personality test.

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4. The Golf Club: Polite Segregation with Collared Shirts

At the golf club, racism wore khakis and spoke in indoor voices.

A man complimented my swing and said,
“You play real well. Didn’t expect that.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know.” He laughed. “Just didn’t.”

Another guy asked where I learned to golf.

“Public course.”

He nodded sympathetically.
“Well, you’re doing great considering.”

Considering what was left hanging in the air like a Confederate ghost.

The clubhouse TV played sports, then news, then suddenly everyone remembered they had opinions.

One man said,
“I’m not racist, but—”

Everyone leaned in. This was the keynote address.

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5. The Party Invitation (or: The Soft Disqualification)

The party invite came with enthusiasm.

“You should come! We’d love to have you.”

Pause.

“I mean, it’s mostly family.”

Pause.

“And church folks.”

Pause.

“And, uh… you might feel more comfortable bringing someone… like you.”

I thanked him for his concern about my comfort while marveling at how uncomfortable he was.

Another invitation included helpful guidance:
“Just a heads up, some people might ask questions. They don’t mean anything by it.”

In West Texas, this translates to: Brace yourself.

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6. Kentucky vs. West Texas: A Scientific Comparison

Kentucky racism had been subtle. Quiet. Like a dog that growls but stays on the porch.

West Texas racism was a marching band. Loud. Cheerful. Convinced it was being hospitable.

Kentucky would whisper,
“Well, bless your heart.”

West Texas would grin and say,
“We love everybody—long as they know how things work around here.”

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7. The Final Realization

Eventually, I understood: this wasn’t hatred so much as certainty.
Certainty that the world had a proper order.
Certainty that deviation required explanation.
Certainty that curiosity was kindness.

They weren’t trying to exclude me.
They were trying to locate me.

And when they couldn’t quite figure out where I fit, they smiled politely, invited me to church, and waited patiently for me to become easier to understand.

Which, in West Texas, is the funniest joke of all.

How to Grow a Church: Best Practices for Sustainable and Spiritually Healthy Expansion

Facebook Is Offline In West Texas (Short Story)

 

“Facebook Is Offline in West Texas”

A short story by a confused New Yorker

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When I first moved from New York City to Midland, Texas, I thought I had accidentally stepped into an old sepia photograph that refused to update. The air was so dry it crackled like vinyl, and the land stretched so far that I started to suspect the horizon was on some kind of performance-enhancing drug. You don’t see distances like that in New York. In the city, you’re lucky if you can see past the next food cart. Here, you could see forever—which, for a New Yorker, is frankly unsettling.

The first culture shock hit before I’d even unpacked: Facebook. Back home, Facebook was practically an Olympic sport—everyone friended everyone, sometimes twice by accident. But in Midland, Facebook was offline. No, seriously—people treated it like a church bulletin that only existed once you’d earned your pew. You don’t send a friend request unless you’ve shared at least two briskets, one sunset, and a secret. People formed groups in person first. They’d barbecue, drink, laugh under the Milky Way (which I thought was a myth invented by Hershey’s), and then—only then—would someone say, “You know, maybe we should make a Facebook group.”

In New York, that would’ve been backwards. We’d start a Facebook group first, then spend the next six months avoiding actually meeting.

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The second shock came around 11 PM my first night, when I decided to get a late bite. In Manhattan, 11 PM is basically lunchtime for insomniacs. You can get sushi, Ethiopian, or a lobster roll served out of an old ambulance if you walk three blocks. In Midland, I walked three blocks in every direction, and all I found were locked doors, sleeping tumbleweeds, and one raccoon who looked offended that I was interrupting his shift.

I finally stumbled into a gas station, half delirious, and grabbed a granola bar that looked like it had survived three presidencies. The clerk—kind, quiet, wearing a belt buckle the size of my apartment—said, “Y’all just get in?” I nodded. “Welcome,” he said. “It’s real peaceful here.”

Peaceful. That word hung in the air like a church bell. In New York, peace is something you pay $2,800 a month for and still hear sirens through.

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Then there was the hat incident.

In the city, I wore hats. Not cowboy hats, obviously—more like “artsy fedora meets existential dread.” But in Midland, I thought, when in Rome, etc. So I bought a broad-brimmed cowboy hat. It was a good hat—wide enough to throw shade on Wall Street.

Turns out, no one wears hats anymore in Midland. The whole cowboy aesthetic, apparently, had retired sometime around the Bush administration. I walked into a diner, feeling like Clint Eastwood, and everyone looked at me like I’d just time-traveled from a spaghetti western. A waitress even asked, “You in a play, honey?”

I muttered something about "East Coast fashion" and ate my chicken-fried steak in silence, trying to remember if it was possible to resign from one’s hat mid-meal.

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Then there’s the driving. Lord, the driving.

In New York, we measure travel in subway stops or emotional trauma. In Midland, distance is measured in hours. I met a guy who said, “Gonna go have coffee with my cousin. She’s about four hours up.” I blinked. “You mean… flight?”

He laughed. “Nah, just a quick drive.”

They think nothing of it. Four hours one way, four hours back. Eight hours total—for coffee. In New York, that’s two state lines, three toll booths, and an existential crisis. Here, it’s a morning errand.

And the roads—straight as truth and just as lonely. You can drive for twenty minutes without seeing another car, just the occasional oil rig bobbing its head like it’s agreeing with something only God said.

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The landscape is a whole other story.

The Hudson Valley has its fiery autumns—red, gold, and orange leaves falling like confetti after a Broadway finale. West Texas, though? It’s always Fall here. The grass is permanently yellow, the trees are introverts, and the sunsets could make poets quit their jobs out of humility. The sky doesn’t end; it just forgets to.

At night, you can actually see stars. Stars! In New York, the only stars are Yelp reviews. Here, they spill across the sky like someone shook glitter over a black canvas. The first night I saw them, I nearly called 911. I thought something had exploded.

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And then there’s religion.

Back in New York, I knew maybe two people who went to church—and one of them went ironically. In Midland, it’s the opposite. Nine out of ten people go to church, and the tenth one is just late. On Sundays, the whole town moves in slow motion, everyone dressed neatly, smiling at strangers like they’ve all agreed to be extras in a small-town Hallmark movie.

I went once. The pastor asked where I was from. I said, “New York.”
He paused. “We’ll pray for you.”

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So here I am: a New Yorker in West Texas, a man of sidewalks in a land of sky. I’m learning to drive four hours for coffee, to earn my Facebook friends by attending barbecues, and to stop expecting the city to wake up after 9 PM.

Every night, I step outside, hat in hand, look up at the Milky Way, and laugh.

Because in New York, we say the city never sleeps. But out here, the stars never do.

West Texas: Ground Zero of the AI-Infrastructure Boom

Facebook Is Offline In West Texas (Short Story)

 

West Texas: Ground Zero of the AI-Infrastructure Boom

In the flat, wind-swept plains of West Texas, the next great battle for the global economy is quietly being waged. Not in Wall Street or Silicon Valley—but in places like Abilene, Texas and Amarillo, Texas. Here, the physical infrastructure of the artificial intelligence era—vast data centres, pipelines, turbines, land deals—is being built at break-neck pace.

This is not just a regional story. It is the story of how the AI era will get powered: the compute, the chips, the electricity, the cooling, the real estate. For decades, West Texas was known for oil rigs and cattle ranches; now it is reinventing itself as a backbone for AI.

Why West Texas?

Several key factors converge in this region:

• Land & space: Open, cheap acreage in rural counties provides the room needed for campus-sized computing facilities. One project in the Panhandle spans thousands of acres. (The Texas Tribune)

• Energy infrastructure: The region already has pipelines, gas wells (especially in the Permian Basin), and growing wind/solar capacity. A recent article noted how AI companies are locating near fuel sources to supply huge power loads. (TechCrunch)

• Grid & renewables: For example, in Abilene, one data-centre operator points out it can draw on the ERCOT grid and abundant West Texas wind. (Crusoe)

• Policy & incentives: Rural counties and Texas municipalities are actively courting data-centre projects as a new growth lever—land, jobs, tax revenue. (The Texas Tribune)

The Projects That Illustrate the Shift

• In Abilene, the project code-named “Stargate” (backed by OpenAI among others) is already consuming hundreds of megawatts; within a few years it aims to hit 1.2 gigawatts of power usage. (distilled.earth)

• In the Amarillo and Panhandle area, a data-centre campus spanning 5,800 acres has been proposed by Fermi America, demanding millions of gallons of water per day and triggering local contention about resource usage. (The Texas Tribune)

Economic & Regional Impact

On the upside:

• For places like Abilene, these developments promise serious economic injection. One developer estimates the first phase of their Abilene facility may generate $1 billion in direct + indirect impact over 20 years for just two buildings. (Crusoe)

• Rural economies long dependent on oil, gas, agriculture now see a chance to diversify. County officials in the Permian region call data centres “exciting” because they can leverage existing natural-gas/oil by-product infrastructure. (The Texas Tribune)

On the more cautionary side:

• Job creation is limited once construction finishes: a massive facility may create thousands of short-term construction jobs, but only a few dozen to a few hundred long-term operational roles. (The Wall Street Journal)

• Resource pressure: In rural West Texas, water is scarce. Large-scale data-centres consume/require vast cooling systems, and local stakeholders are asking: what is the cost to agriculture, to groundwater, to the rural way of life? (The Texas Tribune)

• Environmental trade-offs: While some operators are designing ultra-efficient, low-water‐use cooling systems, the broader picture shows that unchecked expansion could mean huge new loads on the grid and emissions from backup or on-site gas power. (arXiv)

What This Means for the Global Economy

• Compute becomes physical: As the generation and training of large AI models become more power‐ and hardware‐intensive, the real constraint shifts from algorithms to infrastructure—land, power, cooling. West Texas is becoming one of the few places where the scale is possible.

• Energy markets get re-shaped: Data centres in West Texas may influence how the Permian natural-gas sector evolves, how the ERCOT grid and transmission build-out happens, and how renewables get integrated and curbed when demand surges.

• Rural revitalisation (and disruption): The diffusion of the AI economy is no longer confined to coastal tech hubs. Rural America—especially energy-rich places—is being pulled into the centre. But whether the benefits are broad-based remains uncertain.

• Geopolitics & manufacturing re-settling: Secure, low-cost, large-scale computing sites may become strategic national assets. The location advantage of places like West Texas may shift competitive dynamics between U.S. tech, China, and others.

Ahead: Key Questions to Watch

• Will the water issue become a bottleneck? Can data-centre cooling systems in dry regions scale sustainably without jeopardising local water resources?

• Can the local labour/ecosystem capture more than construction phases—i.e., build out training, operations, maintenance, chip manufacturing, etc., locally?

• How will communities negotiate with data-centre operators so that infrastructure (roads, grid transmission, renewables) and social impact (housing, local business, resource allocation) are balanced?

• What happens if the power demand from data centres accelerates faster than local transmission and grid capacity—will this lead to latency, higher electricity costs, or regulatory push-back?

Conclusion

What’s happening in West Texas is far more than another large building or tech expansion. It is a pillar in the architecture of the AI era. The massive data centres going up in Abilene, Amarillo and the surrounding regions signify that the future of compute—of intelligence—is being grounded in physical reality: megawatts, gigawatts, pipelines, wires, pipelines, acres of land and fleets of GPUs.

In other words: the global economy’s most cutting-edge frontier might just be the plains of West Texas. The stage may be rural—but the stakes are undeniably global.

• apnews.com
• reuters.com
• houstonchronicle.com

 

पश्चिम टेक्सास: एआई-इन्फ्रास्ट्रक्चर क्रांति का नया केंद्र

विस्तृत, हवा से बहते मैदानों में—जहाँ कभी तेल के रिग और गायों के झुंड अर्थव्यवस्था का प्रतीक थे—आज दुनिया की सबसे अत्याधुनिक आर्थिक हलचल चुपचाप आकार ले रही है। यह कहानी वॉल स्ट्रीट या सिलिकॉन वैली की नहीं है, बल्कि एबिलीन (Abilene) और अमरिलो (Amarillo) जैसे पश्चिम टेक्सास के शहरों की है।
यहाँ पर कृत्रिम बुद्धिमत्ता (AI) युग की रीढ़—विशाल डेटा सेंटर, ऊर्जा पाइपलाइनें, गैस-प्लांट, और गीगावाट-स्तर के सर्वर—तेज़ी से खड़े किए जा रहे हैं।

यह सिर्फ़ एक क्षेत्रीय घटना नहीं है; यह उस वैश्विक बदलाव की कहानी है जो यह तय करेगा कि एआई युग को शक्ति कैसे मिलेगी—चिप्स, कंप्यूट, बिजली, ठंडक, ज़मीन और पूंजी के मेल से।

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क्यों पश्चिम टेक्सास?

पश्चिम टेक्सास आज एआई-इंफ्रास्ट्रक्चर के लिए विश्व का सबसे आकर्षक ठिकाना बन गया है, क्योंकि यहाँ कई कारक एक साथ मिलते हैं—

• ज़मीन और जगह: यहाँ हज़ारों एकड़ सस्ती और खुली भूमि उपलब्ध है, जो विशाल डेटा-कैंपस बनाने के लिए आदर्श है।

• ऊर्जा अवसंरचना: यह इलाका पहले से ही तेल, गैस और बढ़ते सौर-वायु ऊर्जा संयंत्रों से भरा है—जो एआई सर्वरों को स्थायी ऊर्जा दे सकते हैं।

• ग्रिड और नवीकरणीय स्रोत: एबिलीन और आस-पास के क्षेत्रों में ERCOT ग्रिड से जुड़ी पवन-ऊर्जा की प्रचुरता है।

• नीतिगत प्रोत्साहन: टेक्सास की काउंटियाँ और नगर सरकारें इन परियोजनाओं को खुले दिल से आकर्षित कर रही हैं—कर में छूट, भूमि उपलब्धता और स्थानीय नौकरियों के वादे के साथ।

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प्रमुख परियोजनाएँ जो इस बदलाव को दर्शाती हैं

• “स्टारगेट” (Stargate) परियोजना, एबिलीन:
  ओपनएआई और उसके साझेदारों द्वारा समर्थित यह केंद्र अब सैकड़ों मेगावाट बिजली का उपयोग कर रहा है और आने वाले वर्षों में 1.2 गीगावाट तक पहुँचने की योजना बना रहा है।

• अमरिलो और पैनहैंडल क्षेत्र:
  यहाँ एक 5,800 एकड़ में फैले डेटा सेंटर कैंपस का प्रस्ताव है, जिसे फर्मी अमेरिका विकसित कर रही है। यह हर दिन लाखों गैलन पानी की खपत करेगा—जिससे जल-संकट पर बहस छिड़ गई है।

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आर्थिक और क्षेत्रीय प्रभाव

सकारात्मक पक्ष:

• स्थानीय अर्थव्यवस्था को नया जीवन मिल रहा है। सिर्फ़ दो इमारतों वाले एबिलीन डेटा सेंटर से ही अगले 20 वर्षों में लगभग 1 अरब डॉलर का प्रत्यक्ष और अप्रत्यक्ष आर्थिक प्रभाव होने का अनुमान है।

• जो इलाके अब तक तेल, गैस और कृषि पर निर्भर थे, वे अब डिजिटल-अर्थव्यवस्था के हिस्सेदार बन रहे हैं।

चेतावनी के संकेत:

• निर्माण-काल के बाद स्थायी रोजगार सीमित हैं—हज़ारों निर्माण मजदूरों की जगह अंततः केवल कुछ दर्जन-सैकड़ा तकनीकी नौकरियाँ ही बचेंगी।

• जल संकट: डेटा सेंटरों की ठंडक प्रणाली अत्यधिक पानी की माँग करती है, जिससे स्थानीय कृषि और भू-जल पर दबाव बढ़ रहा है।

• पर्यावरणीय संतुलन: कुछ कंपनियाँ कम-पानी या पुनर्चक्रण तकनीक अपना रही हैं, फिर भी कुल ऊर्जा-खपत और उत्सर्जन तेजी से बढ़ रहा है।

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वैश्विक अर्थव्यवस्था के लिए इसका अर्थ

• “कंप्यूट” अब भौतिक बन गया है:
  जैसे-जैसे एआई मॉडल बड़े और ऊर्जा-भक्षी होते जा रहे हैं, बाधा अब एल्गोरिद्म नहीं बल्कि इन्फ्रास्ट्रक्चर बन गया है—जमीन, बिजली, और कूलिंग। पश्चिम टेक्सास वह जगह है जहाँ यह सब संभव है।

• ऊर्जा बाज़ारों का पुनर्गठन:
  ये डेटा सेंटर पर्मियन बेसिन की प्राकृतिक गैस, ERCOT ग्रिड, और नवीकरणीय स्रोतों की दिशा तय कर सकते हैं।

• ग्रामीण पुनर्जागरण:
  एआई-अर्थव्यवस्था अब केवल तटीय टेक-हबों तक सीमित नहीं है। ग्रामीण अमेरिका इसकी नई प्रयोगशाला बन रहा है—हालाँकि लाभ वितरण अब भी असमान है।

• भू-राजनीतिक महत्व:
  इतने बड़े पैमाने के और सुरक्षित कंप्यूट-कैंपस राष्ट्रीय संपत्ति के रूप में देखे जा रहे हैं। पश्चिम टेक्सास जैसी जगहें अमेरिका की वैश्विक तकनीकी प्रतिस्पर्धा में निर्णायक बन सकती हैं।

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आगे के बड़े प्रश्न

• क्या जल-संकट इन परियोजनाओं को सीमित कर देगा?

• क्या स्थानीय श्रमबल निर्माण के बाद दीर्घकालिक तकनीकी-रोज़गार में भाग ले पाएगा?

• क्या समुदाय डेटा-कंपनियों से संतुलित विकास की शर्तें तय कर पाएँगे—बिजली, सड़कें, आवास, और जल-साझेदारी को लेकर?

• क्या बिजली की मांग स्थानीय ग्रिड की क्षमता से आगे निकल जाएगी, और अगर हाँ, तो इसके आर्थिक-राजनीतिक नतीजे क्या होंगे?

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निष्कर्ष

जो कुछ पश्चिम टेक्सास में हो रहा है, वह केवल एक और तकनीकी विस्तार नहीं—बल्कि एआई युग की नींव है।
एबिलीन और अमरिलो के मैदानों में खड़े हो रहे ये विशाल डेटा सेंटर दिखा रहे हैं कि कृत्रिम बुद्धिमत्ता की शक्ति अंततः भौतिक वास्तविकता पर टिकी है—मेगावाट, गीगावाट, पाइपलाइन, तारें, भूमि और अरबों ट्रांजिस्टर।

दुनिया की सबसे “कटिंग-एज” कहानी शायद अब पश्चिम टेक्सास के रेगिस्तानी मैदानों में लिखी जा रही है—जहाँ दृश्य ग्रामीण है, पर दाँव वैश्विक हैं।

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🔗 संबंधित लेख:

• OpenAI ने टेक्सास में Stargate AI डेटा सेंटर दिखाया — Oracle और Softbank के साथ पाँच और की योजना

• Meta ने टेक्सास में $1.5 बिलियन के AI डेटा सेंटर की घोषणा की

• Chevron टेक्सास में अपना पहला एआई-पावर प्लांट बना रहा है — जानिए कहाँ